


Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

by spikesgirl58



Series: 12 Fics of Christmas 2019 [12]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21934534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: Napoleon should have realized that it was merely par for the course to stumble over a THRUSH or two, even on vacation.  Written for Down the Chimney 2019
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Series: 12 Fics of Christmas 2019 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568803
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aathariel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aathariel).



Napoleon Solo struggled to keep their rental car on the ice-slicked road. “Some vacation this is turning out to be.” It had all started so well. It was their first Christmas together as a couple and Napoleon wanted it special.

****

“Is he in, Mandy?” Napoleon asked as he approached Mr. Waverly’s door.

“He is and he’s in a relatively good mood today, too.” She only glanced up for a brief moment and returned to her typing.

Napoleon knocked and when the door slid open, he entered and paused. Waverly was always seated at the console or the table working on something, but today he was in neither of those places. 

“Yes, Mr. Solo, what can I do for you?” Mr. Waverly was actually sitting on the couch, a drink in hand.

“Sir, I was wondering if I might be able to take a week at Christmas this year.”

“What does Mr. Kuryakin have to say about this? He would have to take over.”

“I was rather hoping I could take him with me. He has been waxing poetic about Switzerland at Christmas time, so I thought it would be a nice Christmas surprise/present from me to take him there for a bit of R & R.”

“I see.” Mr. Waverly sipped his Scotch, thoughtfully. Eventually he said, “So, what I am hearing around the office is true. That you two have taken a step forward in your partnership?”

“Yes, sir.” Napoleon didn’t deny it. In fact, he was surprised that they hadn’t been called on the carpet already. No matter how careful they’d been, they worked with a group of spies, after all.

“Be discreet, Mr. Solo. THRUSH will use that as your Achilles Heel if they find out your interest in your partner is more than merely professional. They have already played that card against you and they wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if it meant furthering their plots.”

“Yes, sir, that is our intent.”

“Then, by all means, please enjoy yourself. It will be nice to not have you two under foot for a change.” Mr. Waverly gestured to the bar. “Please help yourself and tell me what you are planning.”

******

Napoleon held Illya’s hips still and drove into them with as much force as he could. Nothing mattered to him now, not Illya’s moans, not the roughness of the carpet beneath his knees. All he wanted was to climax and with a gut-clenching twist, he did. It froze him in position, head thrown back, eyes rolled upward. It wasn’t until reality slipped back a moment later that he became aware of the man beneath him.

He reached for Illya’s erection, but found only a sticky mess. With a groan, he flopped over sideways, slipping out of Illya’s body with a little sigh. 

“If you made a mess on my bear skin rug…” he started as Illya stretched out beside him, still doing his best to catch his own breath.

“You shouldn’t have put me there to begin with.” Illya groaned softly as he straightened out his legs. “Next time, the bed, if you please. My floor days are well behind me.” He grinned and rested his head against Napoleon’s shoulder. “No pun intended.”

Napoleon winced and nodded. “Agreed. Rug burn is never fun, no matter the age.” He pulled Illya to him and for the next few minutes, it was just them and the crackling of the fire. 

“This is nice,” Illya murmured as he started to pull away. “And, as reluctantly as possible, I must now drag myself home.”

“Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Waverly might not like it.”

“You stayed over before without it being a problem.”

“Yes, well, there is talk around the office. I don’t know how, but there is.”

“Mr. Waverly knows Illya. I spoke with him today about it.”

“You told him?” Illya sat up, looking both surprised and a little angry. “What right--?”

“Before you get all indignant, he told me he knew.”

“Oh… I’m not entirely sure that’s better.” Illya laid back down and pillowed his head on his arm. “And?”

“He asked us to be careful.”

“Is he afraid you’ll put me in the motherly way?” Illya smiled up at the ceiling.

“He’s afraid THRUSH will put one of us in the ‘having shuffled off our mortal coil’ way, I suspect.” Napoleon propped himself up on his elbow and reached for their drinks. “He never says anything, but he worries.”

“Thanks.” Illya accepted his glass and sat up to take a swallow of scotch. “He’s becoming a bit of a mother hen, I fear.”

“He’s getting closer to the end and I guess he doesn’t want to have to train someone else to take over for him.” Napoleon drained his glass and looked towards the wet bar. More alcohol meant getting up.

“Same here. I’d hate to have to break in a new partner when I have my current one so nicely broken.”

“Me, broken? You haven’t even scratched the surface, Kuryakin.”

“Best two falls out of three?” Illya stood and stretched, his erection pointing the way.

“You’re on.” Napoleon had the presence of mind to grab the bottle before they headed to the bedroom.

*****

Napoleon looked around the lobby of the hotel they were in. He felt odd in a way, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You do have a reservation, Mr. Solo, but I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix up.”

“Excuse me?”

“We appear to have put you in a single room instead of a double.”

“Meaning?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“That’s what I get for letting my boss make the arrangements.” Napoleon tried to sound disgruntled. “He’s all about economizing.”

The desk clerk seemed beside himself. “Sadly, we are fully booked for most of the week you are with us.”

“It’s all right. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to share.” Napoleon signed the ledger and took the key being offered. “It won’t be a hardship.”

“It is a very nice room.”

“I’m sure it will be.” The itch at the back of his neck had returned. but he resisted looking around. “How is the skiing now?”

“Not perfect, but very close to it. We should be getting a storm tomorrow and afterwards the snow will be perfect.” The head clerk gestured to a bellboy. “Please show Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin to their room.”

Had Napoleon’s attention been on the lobby, he would have seen two heads turn slightly in his direction.

****

  
“Okay, that was a meal to remember,” Illya said, as he slipped out of his overcoat. Napoleon nodded and unlocked the door to their room.

It was as they had left it, except there was a silver ice bucket on the bedside table. “That’s new.” He walked over to it and pulled out a bottle of champagne, reading the label with a practiced eye. “Not bad, but not great, either.”

Illya picked up a small card. “Compliments of the hotel. They take their service seriously here.”

“Only the best for you.” Napoleon uncorked the bottle with a much practiced hand. He carefully poured some into two glasses and saluted him. “To beginnings.”

“Our beginnings. Just try not to rip off all my pajama buttons tonight.”

*****

 _Not perfect_ , Napoleon thought as he fishtailed the car. The road was a sheet of ice and he was going far too fast. The wind was starting to pick up and the snow was drifting down. He should be thinking about the road conditions, but the only thing on his mind at the moment was getting back to town and warming Illya up. 

How THRUSH found them was beyond him. Common sense told him it was a coincidence that a top THRUSH official and his bodyguard were also checked into the same hotel, but in his gut, he wondered if it was only that.

Napoleon kicked himself for not having enacted more security measures for their room, but neither of them had been on gaurd. He should have acted on his sense of unease when it first occurred in the lobby, but all he wanted was to get Illya naked on the bed. He should have done a dozen things, but he didn’t.

What THRUSH didn’t count on was his constitution and Illya’s stubbornness. A lesser man would have been frozen to death by the time he’d been found, but Illya knew cold weather survival and, thankfully, held on until Napoleon found him chained to that tree, the THRUSH taking turns using him as a punching bag.

Of course, it had been a trap. They were just biding time waiting for him to show up, but THRUSH had counted on Napoleon playing fair. After all, he was an UNCLE agent and they always were the good guys. 

It came as a surprise to both men when Napoleon dropped them with a point blank round to the head. He was in no mood to observe niceties. All he wanted was what he came for.

“Besides,” he said to the semi-conscious agent beside him. “It’s much easier to search a dead body than a live one and I didn’t need to deal with any lame jokes.”

“Leave me ‘lone,” Illya muttered through his chattering teeth. He was huddled against the car door. Napoleon was glad he’d had the presence of mind to lock it. Illya was still fighting the THRUSH in his cold-befuddled head.

He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for most of their ride. “Hang in there, Illya. I can see the lights of the city.”

It was a lie, but not a very big one, for they were soon within city limits. Just in time, too, because the storm began with a vengeance. Napoleon didn’t waste any time admiring the snow-covered view. If it had been anyone else, he would have headed directly for the hospital, but Napoleon knew his partner better than that. Illya needed to be warmed up and fast.

He pulled into the portico of the hotel, barely letting the car come to a stop before leaping out. He hurried to the passenger door and unlocked up. Illya tumbled out and to the pavement with a grunt of pain.

The string of curses, all in various tongues, was music to Napoleon’s ears. At least his partner was still alive.

“C’mon, Illya, let’s get you tucked into bed.” In the light now, he could see bruising starting to form on Illya’s face. “No more bar hopping for you,” he said as hotel staff hurried out to help them.

“Is he all right, sir?”

“Just a bit too much holiday cheer, thanks.” Napoleon hefted Illya to his feet. “Come on, Illya, almost there.”

“A walk now? Tired. Sleep.” 

“I know.”

How he got Illya through the lobby and to their room without causing a stir was a blur. It helped that it was very late and all Napoleon concentrated upon was keeping the stumbling man beside him upright. 

The door shut and Napoleon started stripping Illya.

“Not now,” Illya said, trying to push him away, his movements clumsy. Napoleon easily avoided the hands and had Illya down to his skin in record time.

“Yes, now.” He guided Illya towards the bed and buried him under the blankets. Illya curled into a fetal position and Napoleon grabbed a comforter from the closet and added that to the stack. Then he cranked the room’s thermostat up and started a fire in their small fireplace.

Then Napoleon took a moment to do what he should have done all along. He set up a safety parameter inside their room. Now, if anyone tried to enter, the entire wing would know it.

Finally, he stripped and crawled into bed pulling Illya towards him. It took his breath away just how cold Illya still was. The sweat was trickling down his own forehead and the back of his neck, but Napoleon didn’t care. 

Gradually, Illya stopped shivering and settled into a more relaxed position. Napoleon took that moment to unbury himself from the mound of bedding and turn down the heat in the room to something more bearable. 

He went to the bathroom, purposefully ignoring the haggard, unshaven face in the mirror. It took a moment to find the thermometer in his travel case. He poured alcohol over it and let it air dry.

“I hate to do this, Illya, but I need to take your temperature,” he said to the lump.

“Go away,” Illya mumbled, rolling to his side.

“Can’t, I’m sorry.” Napoleon spread Illya’s butt cheeks and inserted the thermometer.

“What the hell are you playing at, Solo?” Illya’s voice was suddenly low and dangerous sounding.

“Ah, you are finally back with us. Just be still. You are suffering from hypothermia and I need to check your temperature.”

“And my mouth wouldn’t work?”

“Do you want me to--?”

“Not now.” Illya was quiet for a moment. “What happened?”

“What always seems to happen? THRUSH.” Napoleon withdrew the instrument and held it beneath the light. “Ninety six point four. You’re getting warmer.”

“I’m still cold.” Illya pulled the blankets tighter around him. “Was our mission a success?”

“Let’s just say theirs wasn’t.” Napoleon set the thermometer aside and climbed back into bed. It wasn’t long before Illya was plastered up against him. “They found us, somehow. They won’t again.”

“You dissuaded them?”

“Permanently. Nobody chains my partner to a tree.”

“’Cept you.” Illya’s voice was almost a whisper.

Napoleon gathered him closer. “Except me.” He kissed Illya’s neck and sighed. It had been close, too close and it scared him just how vulnerable it made him feel. Everything was different now.

*****

Napoleon woke the next morning, groaning at the sunlight streaming in from the window. He’d been in such a hurry the night before, he’d not even bothered to close them. He reached out and his heart started to pound at the emptiness beside him.

He bolted upright and then took a deep breath at the sound of the running shower. There was a knock to the door and he reached for his blue terry cloth robe and his weapon. 

“Yes, he asked, standing to the side of the door.

“Room service, sir.”

“Just a moment.” He walked to the bathroom. “Illya?”

“You’re up, good.”

“Did you order room service?”

“I did. Is it here?”

“It is.

“Excellent. I’m starved.”

“You would be. Nearly freezing to death burns a lot of calories.”

Napoleon turned off his rigged alarm and undid the security latch, opening the door cautiously. It wasn’t likely that THRUSH would try a second time, but he wasn’t taking chances. His hand stayed upon the butt of his pistol as the man entered and rolled a service cart into the room and over to a small table. He began to set the table, but Napoleon waved him off. 

“You can just leave it.” Napoleon spotted Illya’s wallet and removed some bills from it, all while never taking his eyes off the hotel employee. If the man thought his behavior odd, the generosity of the tip kept any questions from his lips.

Hurriedly, Napoleon relocked the door, set the alarm and then carefully investigated the cart. It was as it should be and he felt he could breathe again. He poured himself some coffee and carried it to the bathroom.

Opening the door, he let the steam bellow out before entering. Illya was toweling off, his skin rosy from the hot water.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, but a little tired and pretty sore. And very, very hungry.”

“So pretty much the same as always.”

Illya smiled carefully and took a swig of Napoleon’s coffee. “Yes.”

At the look in his partner’s eye, Napoleon knew better than to shower before breakfast. If he delayed, there would be nothing left. There was a variety of breads on the cart with butter, marmalade and honey, along with an assortment of cereal and milk, and a big pot of coffee, in enough for a small army or one Illya Kuryakin. None of that would last if Napoleon didn’t get his bit first.

Illya sat at the table, slathering marmalade onto a thick piece of bread. He took a bite, chewing with half-closed contented eyes. Napoleon poured himself and Illya more coffee and carried his to the window, squinting out at the day. “Wow, it really came down last night. The city is buried and just in time for Christmas.”

“They said it was going to.”

“I’m just lucky I found you before it hit or it would have been game over.” Napoleon returned to the table and selected his own piece of bread.

“I’m still a little fuzzy about what happened.” Illya touched his face and winced. “Usually I remember stuff like this.”

“No idea. We were pretty gone when they came in. I’m thinking it was the ‘Compliments of the Hotel’ bottle of champagne we found in the room when we came back from dinner.”

“Some spies we are, snatched while we slept. Cutter would have our asses in slings if he knew.”

“They won’t be getting that advantage again and Jules will never find out.” Napoleon spread butter on his slice and ate it slowly, trying to savor the flavor. After a moment, he gave up and set the plate down with a sigh. “It was too close, Illya. Another five minutes and I would have been unchaining a frozen popsicle for a partner.”

“Another just in time rescue.”

“How many more do I have in me, Illya? Or you?”

“Napoleon?”

“I was scared last night, Illya. Really and truly scared. I always worry about you, but last night, it was different. Last night, I started doubting me.”

“What are you saying?”

“Can we do this? I mean, with what we have, can we still be effective agents or am I going to be constantly distracted by my fears? If my mind had been focused, I would have picked up on those agents in the lobby. Instead, all I wanted was to be with you.”

Illya was quiet for a time. “Napoleon, THRUSH has been using me as bait for you for a long time, ever since Partridge grabbed me the first time. We’re partners.”

“We were partners, but we’re much more than that now.” Napoleon sighed and returned to his coffee. “I’m just not sure how I feel about it.”

“I was afraid that this might happen. It’s why I fought so hard in the beginning. Do you want another partner? I can ask Mr. Waverly to reassign me.”

“After I’ve gotten you broken in? Never!” Napoleon tried to make it sound like a joke. “Nor do I intend to give you up as a love interest.”

“Then you have your answer. We will continue as we are. We will just have to be a bit more conscientious and cautious in the future.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes. Love isn’t about being careful, Napoleon. It’s about the connection, the shared experiences. It’s about doing what it takes to keep it safe and whole, which apparently involves getting chained to a tree in the middle of the night. Do you know what kept me going? ” 

“What?” Napoleon already knew the answer.

“It was knowing you’d find me. Knowing you would bend time itself if need be. And it’s knowing that I would do the same for you.” Illya stood slowly, wincing as he moved. “Now if you will excuse me, I feel the need to be back in bed.” He smiled shyly. “You can join me as long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself. I love you, but I’m just not up for anything right now.”

“I can live with that.”

“Pull the curtains, would you?” Illya yawned.

Napoleon nodded and walked to the window. He could hear the church bells singing a welcome to Christmas Day. The sound made him smile. Illya was right. They would continue on because that’s all they knew how to do. He would fight, claw and crawl back to his partner’s side, no matter what. He’d leave the small details to someone else.

For now, that was enough.


End file.
